


please

by jegudiel



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/F, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 02:29:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15451401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jegudiel/pseuds/jegudiel
Summary: it's time to say goodbye.





	please

“adora.”

she stops. one hand still props the door open, while the other has a white-knuckle grip on the strap of her bag. the moonlight reaching in steals the warmth from her hair and gives her a halo softly glowing silver-gold. her face is turned away. catra can’t see her eyes, and she doesn’t need to: adora’s brows are drawn together, her lashes long and dark, her irses chips of ice, frozen into them that hard determination she’s always had, the conviction that drives her to do or die. beneath her eyes are circles tinted purple, the ghosts of all the nights she lay awake that brought her to this moment.

the image sears itself into catra’s memory like a brand into flesh.

something has risen in catra’s throat, twisting itself around her airway and squeezing, making it so catra can’t breathe. it’s catra, it’s adora, it’s the fear of the inevitable. she wraps her arms around her body and holds so tight her claws prick her skin while water fills her head and leaks out her eyes and drowns everything out except the girl who stands only a few feet away but might as well be on the dark side of the moon. 

catra opens her mouth. nothing comes out. she tries a second time. her voice creaks out, desperate and lonely in the empty air.

“stay.”

adora faces her, leaning with one shoulder against the door. there are tears streaming down her cheeks flushed pink. catra watches how they catch the light as they trickle down the hand clasped over adora’s mouth.

the door slams. adora’s backpack hits the dust.

“i can’t,” adora breathes into catra’s ear. catra rests her head on adora’s shoulder and leans in, trying to steady herself against the familiar weight of adora’s body, but she finds that adora is trembling, too. they’re holding each other so close. catra can’t imagine ever letting go.

“please,” she says, the word muffled by adora’s jacket.

adora rocks them from side to side. 

“i can’t. i’m sorry,” she murmurs. “i have to go. you know i have to.”

catra knows. she remembers all the fights they’ve had over this, this horrible urge of adora’s. leaving. it’s stupid, it’s crazy, it doesn’t make any sense. who gave her this idea? where does it come from? why does adora want to run away and burn down everything they’ve worked so hard to build? catra doesn’t understand it. she only understands that adora must go through with it. she’s resolved to do this against everything they’ve ever known and all catra’s pleading these past few months. and once adora decides to do something, she will.

(it’s one item on an endless list of things that made catra fall in love with her).

adora pulls away and moves her hands from catra’s back and lights them on the sides of her face to hold her with the caution of someone handling glass. her touch sends a thrill of electricity across catra’s skin. there’s a wild urgency in her eyes.

“come with me,” she begs, head tilted.

catra’s broken heart drops. “i—i can’t.” 

“you could. please.”

“you know i can’t!”

now the lines are all mixed up and it’s catra who’s playing adora’s part in her own worst nightmare. that’s—that’s not how it’s supposed to go. it’s adora who’s tearing them apart. fire flares up in catra’s gut. 

“don’t blame _me_!” she nearly shouts. “this is _you_. you’re the one—” her voice cracks and the suffocating is back again. the water in her head smothers the flames. the pressure behind her eyes threatens to burst again, even though the fur on her cheeks has yet to dry.

“you’re the one abandoning me here,” catra says, voice small.

“i’m sorry.”

adora’s hands drop. she picks her backpack off the floor, brushes off the grime, and swings it on. 

catra stands there by herself, alone with what is now an absence, a lack instead of a nothingness, and watches adora step away. left foot, right foot, left foot, speeding up— 

“adora, wait,” catra says.

she stops.

the door is halfway open again. two futures balanced on the sharpened edge of a knife. not quite here, not quite there, a long tightrope walk she was never trained for.

catra takes a deep breath, opens her mouth.

and lets herself fall.

**Author's Note:**

> idk this show isnt even out yet lmao i wrote this as a warm up,, its like 3 am now and im probably gonna regret posting this when i wake up but FUCK IT im feeling brave hope u gays enjoy


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